


i feel the walls closing in

by Sorahana



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Some swear words, claustrophobic sport, minimal accuracy to maximize the PAIN, no happy ending, robbie messed up real bad, well just plain hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorahana/pseuds/Sorahana
Summary: How could Robbie's plan went so right and so wrong at the same time?





	i feel the walls closing in

**Author's Note:**

> so yes, to celebrate my freedom, please have this piece. this one-shot is filled with gracious amounts of hcs and honestly, just pure self indulgence. it's minimal accuracy so i can maximize the pain. and there's a lot of pain. im so sorry my boys. 
> 
> as always, please forgive oocness and/or grammar mistakes. plus the inaccuracies of how these two handled things. still, it's for pain so i hope you'll turn a blind eye for that

Sportacus didn’t know how he ended up in this situation.

It had been just another ordinary day. He patrolled the town, looking out for any kind of trouble the citizens could get themselves into. What felt like an uneventful routine took a turn when his crystal started to flash. It had given him some trouble these past couple of days but generally, it led him to the danger regardless of the initial muck up.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Sportacus exclaimed, looking down at his beeping crystal. He tried to focus on the vague images that popped in his mind, the kind that gave him a general sense of who needed saving and where they were at. Oddly enough, he barely got more than a flash of color, one that he was all too familiar with.

He ignored the stirring of something in his chest in favor of getting to the source as quickly as he could. Robbie was in some kind of trouble, which was another oddity in itself since his crystal rarely flashed for him. At least, outside of a scheme gone wrong.

Sportacus didn’t like the implications. With a worried frown, he made his way to the villain’s lair in record speed. It was the logical place to check, considering he hadn’t pulled off any disguises today. The hero went to the hatch and gave it a couple of sharp knocks.

“Robbie? Are you alright in there?” Sportacus called out. Honestly, he was hoping for some sort of response but dead silence greeted him. His concern rising, he tried to open the hatch himself. Surely he would understand the invasion of privacy if it meant saving him from danger.

It popped up easily enough. Sportacus didn’t dwell on this fact for long. Instead, he prepared himself for the trip inside. He wished that there was an easier way but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. His eyes squeezed shut for a fraction of a second before he let gravity take over.

Sportacus grunted at each turn, mentally wishing for the experience to be over already. His body had instinctively prepared for the landing but strangely enough, he rammed into something. The impact knocked the wind out of him, making him gasp for breath as he tried to regain his bearings.

Once he did, he realized that he was… trapped.

The hero took several seconds to process this fact. Wherever he was, there seemed to be no lighting whatsoever. Not to mention it was cramped. Like, he could barely move. It felt like he was jammed into some sort of metal closet.

Sportacus should form some sort of plan to free himself but his mind chose to latch onto the sole fact that he was confined in one of Robbie’s traps, one that was _cramped_ and _dark._

A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead as an agonizingly familiar feeling started to sink in.

“Robbie? Are you out there?” Sportacus hated the way his voice squeaked at the end. “You got me trapped. Your plan succeeded. Let me out please?”

He waited anxiously for a reply but just like before, only silence greeted him. Sportacus tried to knock the wall in front of him but he could barely bend his arms. All he could really do was swing them forward, his palms slapping uselessly against it.

After several failed attempts, Sportacus attempted to redirect his focus. He could feel his heart rate picking up, as was his breathing when the gravity of the situation really sank in for him. A spark blossomed in his heart before he could stop it. In some detached way, he already knew he was losing this battle. Still, he couldn’t admit defeat so easily. There must be some way to get himself out of here. All he had to do was think his way through this.

Still, with each tense breath, he forced himself not to hyperventilate on the stagnant air. But it was difficult to prevent the fear from exploding into all out panic.

It was dark, regardless if he had his eyes open or close. Though, having them open felt even darker for some terrifying reason. Perhaps it had something to do with that particular memory, deeply submerged but slowly clawing to the surface the longer he found himself trapped.

Sportacus tried to fill his air with lungs but it felt like he was sucking it in through a straw. With each gasp, he could feel a heavy fog clouding his mind, sapping away his mental capacity for rational thought. He was simply trapped in an enclosed space with no light filtering through whatsoever. It was fine. _He was fine._ Getting out wouldn’t be a problem.

Except it was. Sportacus could barely move his body, his shoulders pressed against the cool, metal wall. He was never good at staying still in the first place but being forcibly stuck, immobilized beyond wiggling his fingers, felt deeply, fundamentally wrong for him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening involuntarily. It felt like… back then, when he was dressed in potato sacks passed off as clothes, hair messy and body weary as he got pushed into the dark mines at the crack of dawn. Alongside similar others, it was a monotonous, exhausting routine of digging out coal until his hands were calloused and black. Though, unlike the rest, Mr Kicker gave him a special task.  

His small, malnourished stature could fit into tiny spaces, making him the perfect child to explore the deeper levels by wiggling in through narrow cracks.

That meant having to suck in his stomach, taking in quick, shallow breaths as he slowly made his way through the tight, dusty walls. Sportacus remembered the pressure against his chest, fear spiking whenever small bits of rock and dirt crumble when he squeezed past. He always had this thought that the space he was in would collapse, ending his short, pitiful life in the worst way possible.

While those days were behind him, the experience was seared in his mind, the fear forever dragging on his heels no matter where he went or whatever persona he built up. Sportacus kept it carefully hidden when he opted to become a hero. Heroes were supposed to be fearless, able to face any dangers head on regardless of the time and place.

A hero that was afraid of tight spaces? Completely laughable and Sportacus hated it because—

He squeezed his eyes shut, a small whimper escaping his lips. It still had a hold on him, evident from the way he was losing his composure to the fright. Sportacus knew he was fine but he couldn’t convince himself of that.

Logically, the metal walls remained the same but to his terror induced mind, he could feel it slowly closing in on him. It pressed against his shoulders, trying to squeeze him till he was nothing more than a pancake. By this point, he could barely feel anything aside from the panic that rapidly consumed him.

His heart beating a hundred miles a minute, he attempted to call out for help. All he managed was a choked off sob, unbridled tears leaking from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks in fast rivulets. Everything was too tight and dark, so _so_ familiar to the nightmare of his past. The walls weren’t crumbling but it was definitely collapsing in on him.

Sportacus felt his skin itched, an uncomfortable heat settling just beneath the surface. With each choppy breath, the temperature increased till it was almost unbearable. He wanted to claw off his skin, scratch at it, just something to free himself from the sensation of being cooked alive but he still couldn’t move and _oh god this was it_ his luck finally ran out the walls were crumbling and he was going to die before he could even begin to live beyond the life in the mines—

He began to bawl like a child, giving into the despair that coiled around him amidst the haze of panic. Right now, he wasn’t Sportacus the slightly above average hero. He was just Ten, the abandoned child who was convinced his life was ending before it even started. There were so many things he wanted to see and do.

The sky looked so vast and free. He always wanted to try and get closer to it so he could experience what it’d be like to be unrestrained. Ten had heard stories of the sea, what could only be the sky’s equivalent but it was tangible and a different shade of deep blue. Green luscious forests filled with flora and fauna. A field streaked with all sorts of colors from the flowers that blossomed so beautifully. He wanted to see everything, to fill in what his limited imagination could not even begin to comprehend.

He wanted to save himself and the rest of the children. A hero that could free others that shared the same awful fate. They were thrusted into this life, forced to do manual labor by an adult figure that only cared of their usefulness. Ten knew they deserved more, better than simply existing and surviving on a day to day basis.

That desire was all for naught because he was going to die in this cave.

His cries nearly drowned out the roaring in his ears. Sportacus had never broke down this hard in recent years. If he had some grasp on reality, he might have felt mortification at his reaction. Right now, he merely sobbed his heart out, his face a mess of tears and snot. The sounds that was coming out of his throat was gut wrenching to hear, if there was a witness to this horrible moment.

Sportacus barely heard the sounds coming from outside. Even if he did, he was too disoriented to respond to it. After what felt like forever, something gave way and suddenly he was pitching forward, his fall barely cushioned by the pair of hands that held onto his shoulders.

It took a while before Sportacus started to realize that everything didn’t seem so… tight. He was no longer upright, instead being on his hands and knees. They felt weak but he was not confined anymore. He could move them beyond simply wiggling his fingers and toes. He still had trouble gasping in breaths but the air didn’t taste so musty anymore.

Was he… free? His mind was still muddled, unable to comprehend beyond a few semi coherent thoughts but he could move his body. That was something, right?

Sportacus tried to find where his heartbeat ended and his breathing began. It took several tries since he kept losing focus but eventually, he managed to sit up and placed his head between his knees, crown parallel to the floor as he took in deep, shaky breaths. Tears still streamed down his cheeks but he was no longer bawling. His heart beat had slowed down alongside his breathing so the fog in his mind steadily dissipated, his rationale returning to him at a sluggish pace.

This time, when he heard a hesitant call for his name, he gave a response. Sportacus lifted his head just enough to see the figure standing in front of him, the same one who caused him so much distress in the first place. A sudden rush of emotions filled his drained body with an intensity that was nearly overwhelming. He was battered with the conflicting feelings ( ~~ _confusedhurtbetrayed_~~ ) still too weak to process it with logic. Although, he found himself latching onto one particular emotion.

When he felt a hand land on his shoulder, he slapped the hand away, shooting a frigid glare through red rimmed eyes.

“Don’t touch me, _Rotten._ ”

**Anger.**

* * *

 

Robbie hadn’t expected to land himself in this situation.

For him, it was just another day after a night of fitful sleep. When he woke up, he felt grumpy and tired, wanting nothing more than to return back to his comfy bed. Still, he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep so he forced himself to get up and make himself a cup of coffee.

Once he got caffeine in his system, his mind whirled with today’s activities. Robbie had finally completed his latest creation, one that took many months and several dozen failed attempts before he made a functional machine.

It looked like some sort of mix between a radio and a radar. A satellite dish looking thing was planted on the top, the body itself having a screen and some dials. Robbie had yet to give it a name but he was pleased with the results regardless.

The device, odd looking in nature, had the capability to trigger off that Sportaloon’s crystal. Finding the right frequency was a nightmare but his hard work paid off. Robbie took great pleasure in watching the hero run all over town during the test runs, trying to find the trigger for his crystal. In the end, it did lead him to an actual trouble but he got the data that he needed.

Robbie’s plan was fairly simple. Set the crystal off, make it so that he’d think that he was the one who needed help through process of elimination – he begrudgingly accept the fact that the annoying blue kangaroo had some common sense so he was gunning on that fact – and then get him trapped in his latest enclosure.

It looked like a tool shed, only smaller and made of metal. He had it connected to the chute so when Sportanut inevitably entered through the hatch, it would send him straight into it. Robbie would then ship it somewhere far away from town! Of course, being the tasteful villain, he made sure that Sportakook could still breathe in there but that was it. He couldn’t see or move in there so he won’t be able to find his way back to Lazytown after Robbie had him shipped away!

Robbie cackled, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He had a feeling that this would be one of his greatest traps. He waited until it was more or less the time the hero usually made his patrol. Grabbing his machine, he twisted a couple of dials, setting it to the right frequency before letting it do its magic.

The villain hid behind his orange chair, waiting in anticipation for the exact moment where Sportaloon would fall for his trap. Like clockwork, he heard the annoying beeping getting louder until it was directly outside his lair. After a few raps, the hatch was popped open.

Robbie gleefully followed the body that fell down the chute and let loose a triumphant laugh when the hero had squarely found himself trapped in his miniature prison.

Finally, one of his plans was going according to plan! Minimal work for maximum effort, which suited him just fine. While he would have loved to break out a disguise, less was definitely better in this scenario.

Too elated by his victory, Robbie failed to notice the gentle raps coming from the cage. Now that he had gotten to this stage, it was time to find a suitable place to ship the hero away. Robbie had chosen a few places that felt like it’d be far enough that he wouldn’t have to see Sportakook’s mug for a long time. It was a matter of finding that absolute best spot to ensure his win.

It was a couple of minutes later that Robbie stopped, brows creasing in confusion. Now that he wasn’t babbling excitedly to himself, his ears picked up an odd sort of sound. It was different from the usual whir and crackle of machines. Focusing on the noise made him zero in on the trap.

Despite his better judgement, Robbie approached the cage. At a closer proximity, he could make out the sound. It was faint but that was the unmistakable sound of… crying.

Robbie’s eyes widened. Out of all the reactions he’d been expecting, this was admittedly not on the list. He made the trap strong and durable so that the hero wouldn’t be able to break out of it so easily. A fight was the most likely scenario but this… he wasn’t prepared for this.

In a way, he should just leave him trapped. Hearing the mighty hero cry meant that he had done a truly villainous act. Robbie was finally living up to his title. This should be something he take pride in and yet…

He nursed his bottom lip. The cries were getting louder and it honestly sounded heart wrenching. There was so much pain behind it. Imagining Sportakook bawling painted a miserable picture in his mind. Robbie gripped his arm, eyes glancing to the side. He felt uncertain of his next course of action. His plan was finally working. He had his opportunity to send the hero packing and finally getting his peace and quiet.

Still, he couldn’t erase the mental image. Sportaloon, who was always smiling, even towards him was reduced to a crying mess…

In the end, the guilt overweighed his logic. Robbie just couldn’t listen to that sound any longer. He scrambled to the latch, trying to get it open as quickly as his slightly shaky fingers could manage.

A couple of things happened when Robbie managed to get it open. One, the cries became louder, nearly ear piercing and sounded even more gut wrenching. Two, Sportacus had pitched forward, his arms instinctively going up to catch him. Robbie barely managed to slow his descent to the floor and once the hero was on his hands and knees, he pulled back.

Robbie eyed the pitiful scene in front of him. Sportacus was still sobbing his heart out, body shaking like a leaf in a storm. His mind instantly tried to find some sort of reason for this kind of reaction in an attempt to detach himself from the situation.

That backfired horribly once his gaze landed on the trap. It didn’t take long for him to form a possible hypothesis. Sportacus was trapped in that small cage. He started crying, something that he had never seen before. He looked scared even, now that his mind latched onto the little details.

The logical answer would be that he was claustrophobic. Sportacus, the slightly above average hero who claimed he wasn’t scared of anything, was afraid of tight spaces and he was forcibly placed into one because of _him._

Robbie felt his heart pounding in his chest. This was not what he expected at all. While he was a villain, there was just something about triggering a panic attack that felt downright despicable. Robbie had his own share of attacks during particularly bad days. He knew how wretched it felt, how horrible the experience was and here, he purposely did it to his nemesis.

His mouth was dry, a sourish tang filling the back of his throat. Seeing Sportacus crying and shivering like this made him feel sick to his stomach. Knowing that he was the reason for it made the guilt clump in his chest like lead.

Robbie did a truly awful thing to someone who truthfully didn’t deserve it. He needed to do something. Had to make things right.

Robbie cautiously approached the hero, unsure on what to do. He settled on placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, wanting to ask if he could do anything help but his hand was slapped away.

For the briefest of moments, Sportacus looked up. Even with his eyes red and puffy, the absolute anger in them struck Robbie to the core. The elf was patient and kind, often annoyed by his antics more than anything else. This was the first time he saw him displayed true anger and it was directed at him.

Robbie understood that it was justified but it still made his heart twinge painfully.

“Don’t touch me _, Rotten_ ,” Sportacus hissed, dropping his head back into his hands before he turned to face away from Robbie.

Robbie’s insides just about turned to ice. He stumbled back, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Sportacus had never sounded so… frigid. The way he spat out his surname truly made him feel rotten.

He had fucked up. He had _fucked up so bad._

His mouth opened and closed useless. Robbie wanted to give a reason, to comfort Sportacus, to apologize for messing up horribly but he couldn’t form any actual words. Robbie had never felt these myriad of emotions so intensely. Guilt and fear were the dominant ones, though the latter was somewhat confusing.

Still, he felt a wave of terror wash over him. Robbie didn’t know what he was actually afraid of. It wasn’t for his own safety, no. Was he… scared of losing Sportacus’ trust? Why should he even cared about what the hero felt towards him in the first place? They were on the opposite ends of the spectrum, practically sworn into becoming enemies and yet, he had shown him nothing but kindness all this while.

Robbie was struck with the realization that all this while, everything came from his end. Sportacus never once retaliated to his schemes. He kept pushing with his attempts of friendship but still respected Robbie’s boundaries. While he was persistent, he never purposely made Robbie feel uncomfortable.

Unlike him but this was worse than mild discomfort. Robbie had triggered a panic attack by putting a claustrophobic in a tight space. It didn’t matter if it was unintentional. He had purposely placed him into it with malicious intent in the first place.

He was a Rotten through and through, huh?

Swallowing down the bile that crept up his throat, Robbie hesitantly looked back at Sportacus. By now, the hero had quieted, the occasional hiccup or sniffle breaking the tense silence. He wasn’t facing him, which in a way he was grateful for. Robbie might break if he saw that anger (and betrayal) directed at him again.

Robbie didn’t dare to approach him but he still wanted to do something _, anything_ to fix this situation.

“Sportacus, I’m—“

Before he could even finish the sentence, Sportacus shot up, back still facing him before he made a shaky dash to the exit. The loud clang of the hatch swinging shut filled the silent lair, the sound reverberating through his soul and shaking his heart.

Robbie knew he deserved it. He had fucked up but still, it hurt. _It hurt so much._

**Author's Note:**

> mwahahahaha that's the ending. at least, at the time being. maybe if ya'll enjoy it a lot i could pull in some comforts? i'm not that cruel to the boys or to you peeps. maybe.


End file.
